


a lamb meets a hound

by jdphoenix



Series: a lamb [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 16:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: “My name’s Will Daniels,” he whispers, “Ward sent me to rescue you.”





	a lamb meets a hound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 'three months later' time stamp prompt from lillysbitchfest over on tumblr AND for aosadvent's 'sacrifice' prompt.

Moonlight falls through the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving everything in the suite long, soft shadows. Down below, the city shines like a jewel, streetlights reflecting off windows. Even this high up, there’s that nighttime chill that reaches deep down to your bones. It softens his steps, slows him down. He doesn’t want to disturb the peace that’s settled over this place.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar so no worry about making noise when he opens it. He hadn’t been sure what he’d find exactly, not after this morning, but it’s as still as the rest of the suite, if a little warmer. The bed sits on a raised platform and a golden glow radiates from light sockets on either side of it. They’re just nightlights, same as you’d find in any kid’s bedroom, but the glow and the stillness work together to give the whole apartment an air of holiness. He feels like he’s walking on hallowed ground as he steps up to the bed.

He hesitates when he finally sees her. _Beautiful_ is the word that comes to mind, hitting him like a punch to the gut. It could just be the circumstance—the light and the heavy air and her relaxed and open expression—but no. He touches his front pocket, feels the faint give of the paper tucked inside. She’s beautiful, no question.

She doesn’t stir as he approaches—maybe she’s tuckered out, maybe she’s used to late-night voyeurs, maybe maybe maybe—doesn’t matter. He reaches out, seals his hand tight over her mouth, and in a flash her eyes come open, wide and fearful.

“My name’s Will Daniels,” he whispers, “Ward sent me to rescue you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_thirty-six hours earlier_

 

Will’s exactly where he’s been for the past two weeks. The cell is cramped and smells—though that’s mostly on him at this point—and the bed is shit. The thin mattress is so lumpy and misshapen that if Will _did_ sleep on it, he’d ruin his back. So he spends his nights sitting up, waiting for sunrise when the light streaming in will warm the nice, solid, no-lumps-at-all-floor and he can sleep there.

That’s how come he’s awake when the explosions start and he’s on his feet, ready to fight it out when the door opens. Good thing too because the door doesn’t just swing open, oh no, it flies right off its hinges, slamming into the wall and turning the crap cot to kindling.

“Uh oh,” a woman’s voice says from the hall.

“What’d you do?” That’s a yell from farther back, it sounds odd, like the voice is muffled, but that could just be the echo of gunfire making everything weird in the tight corridors.

The woman pokes her head slowly into the cell, critically eyeing the damage. “Are you _sure_ he was in 619- _oh!_ ” She finally sees Will and gives a little wave. “Found him!”

“Good, grab him and let’s get going.”

The woman makes a lunge for Will’s lifted fist, but he backs up.

“As much as I appreciate … all of this, _what?_ ”

“We’re with SHIELD,” she says. “We’re here to break you out.”

Good enough for Will. He shrugs and follows along. Out in the hall, he’s given a gun and a vest by a man in full tac gear, including a scary-looking face mask. Not that he much needs either. The woman knocks down most of the guards before they can get a shot off and once they’re outside the facility, out in the open air, the perimeter guards don’t seem much interested in chasing them down. They get off a couple shots that go wide, but that’s about it.

“Well that was fun,” Will says after about twenty minutes of knocking around the back of a van with no sign of pursuers. “But you guys wanna tell me why you staged a whole jailbreak for little old me?”

The woman glances back in the rearview, but the guy doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“We’re almost there,” she says.

“Where?” Will asks.

No answer. Great.

Lucky for Will, it really isn’t long before they pull off what amounts to a road in the boonies of Inhuman territory and park. His rescuers hop out, leaving Will no choice but to follow. He takes one look around at the trees providing them cover, then their destination, and whistles.

“Yeah,” the woman says. “It’s pretty sweet.”

 _It_ is a quinjet. A stealth plane with all the best tech SHIELD has to offer. Will’s heard of them, drooled over the specs, but he never thought he’d actually see one. Hell, he didn’t even know these babies were in production yet.

He reaches up to sweep his fingertips along the hull while he mounts the ramp. It’s cool to the touch, but not just because of the dew in the air. He heard there was some sort of camouflage plating on these babies, he’s guessing that’s what does it.

“You like?”

Will nods, falling into one of the jump seats and gaping like a kid at his first circus.

“Good,” the man says, taking the seat directly across from him, “you and I are gonna be flying it.”

That snaps Will back into focus. “Seriously?” he laughs. Getting out of prison was nice but this… Today is now officially one of this top five days ever.

But there’s no way they pulled him out and gave him this beauty just to make friends. There’s gotta be a reason. “What’s the mission?” he asks.

“First-” The man’s mask bobs and Will startles as the weight of his sidearm lifts away. The woman sheepishly slips it into a spare holster of her own.

“Don’t freak out,” she says.

Will doesn’t have time to ask _about what_ before the guy’s taking off the mask and he sees exactly why all the precautions.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes.

“Yeah.” The man—who looks _exactly like_ freaking _Hive—_ rolls his eyes. “I know. I’m not him though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Will echoes sharply. He’s met Hive exactly once, first time he was ever captured by the enemy. This guy looks the same, sure, but there’s no way he’s him. There’s none of that _presence_ , the itch in your skull, the feeling Will got like Hive was looking straight through to the heart of him. “So who the hell are you? _What_ are you?”

Something like a smile pulls at one corner of the guy’s mouth, but it isn’t much. “Grant Ward. This is Daisy Johnson. And like she said, we’re with SHIELD.”

“So what? We’re working on replacing the big guy with a cuddlier, less genocidal version because I don’t think-”

“He’s human,” Johnson says, softly but forcefully. “We don’t know why Ward looks like Hive, but he’s not a clone or a replacement. He just … is.”

Ward shrugs awkwardly, not all that inclined to offer words in his own defense.

“Simmons used to have theories…,” Johnson says, her voice barely audible in the quiet. She doesn’t elaborate.

“So why me? And what for?” Will asks, figuring they might as well get to the point if these guys don’t feel like talking about it.

Ward leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands pressed together. “You’ve been captured over enemy lines nineteen times in the past ten years.”

“Eighteen,” Will corrects. He smiles at Johnson. “The seventh time they didn’t even get me in handcuffs, doesn’t count.”

“Whatever. Point is, you’ve been captured a lot and for whatever reason the Inhumans haven’t touched you.”

Will would like to refute that—he’s got a stiff ankle and a few scars that say different—but he honestly can’t. Truth is, once they get him, it’s like they don’t care. Or they do—there was that one time with the pretty nurse, she definitely cared—just not about hurting him. Everyone on the human side of this fight knows if you get captured it’s torture at best, experimentation at worst. But Will’s never had a second of either. He’s not treated _well_ , but he’s not suffering either. By prisoner of war standards he’s doing damn great over there.

“So what?” he asks. “I’m lucky.”

“Maybe,” Ward says. “And maybe there’s some reason they don’t wanna hurt you. I’m hoping that’s it.”

A twisty, warning feeling clenches Will’s gut. “Why?” he asks even though he really doesn’t wanna know.

“I need someone for a rescue op. Deep in the heart of Inhuman territory, Hive’s capital.”

Will laughs. There’s really no other response because this is clearly a joke.

Only no one else is laughing with him.

“You’re not serious,” he says.

Ward’s mouth thins, he looks down at the deck plating. “It’s a two-man job. One to breach the compound and get our agent out, one on stick for the getaway. I can’t do it alone.”

Will gestures to Johnson sitting not three feet away. “Looks to me like you’ve got a pretty good two-man rescue team already.”

“I can’t.” Something about Johnson’s voice, it doesn’t crack but it’s a near thing. “I was swayed by Hive. For four months.” She bites her lip so hard Will’s afraid it might bleed. “If I go back…”

“He’ll take you.” One thing Will’s always been grateful for, even those first few times before it started sinking in the Inhumans weren’t gonna hurt him, was that he’s not one of them. He’d rather have been some mad scientist’s latest plaything than lick that monster’s boots.

“I’ll beg him to take me back.”

That’s not what Will was expecting to hear, but he sees in Johnson’s raw eyes that it’s the truth. He shifts in his seat, back around to face Ward again. The guy’s not surprised by the confession, but it leaves a weight on his shoulders and deeper lines around his mouth.

“I’ve got pilots,” he says. “Plenty of them who’d be happy to help me on this. But none of them I can guarantee won’t suffer for it if this goes south.”

“There’s no guarantee I won’t either,” Will reminds him. Like he said, it could just be luck.

“Yeah,” Ward says with a weak smile, “but you’re overdue for a little roughing up so I won’t feel as bad about it.”

Johnson shoots him an angry look, but Will just laughs. He likes this asshole.

“All right, who’re we after? Better be someone real important for all of this.”

“Doctor Jemma Simmons.”

Johnson pulls a photo from her pocket and holds it out. “She handed herself over to Hive to free me.”

Will takes a look at the woman who’d willingly give herself to that monster just to save a friend. _Beautiful_ , he thinks, feeling his lips twitch at the sight of her broad grin.

“When do we start?” he asks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ward?” Jemma asks, throwing off the covers. For a millisecond Will’s heart stops in his chest, but then he sees she’s wearing modest pajamas. Thank God. “Where is he?”

“Shh!” Will looks over her shoulders then his own. He hasn’t seen any guards—but then why waste men on guarding a single woman in the heart of a city entirely under Hive’s sway—but that doesn’t mean there’s no one around to hear.

“Hive’s not here,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. He backs up, giving her space to climb off the platform. “He doesn’t sleep that I’ve seen.”

Will takes another look around. “So this isn’t his…?” he asks slowly. It’s the first bedroom he’s seen in the suite. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another one somewhere, but from what Ward said about Hive’s interest in her, he was kinda expecting to find her in the monster’s bed.

“No!” Jemma pauses while pulling a pair of boots out of the closet. “Or I don’t think it was. The suite is his but he’s never … not since I’ve been here …” She shakes her head. “What was Ward thinking?”

In answer Will looks back to the bed.

Jemma huffs, stomping one of her feet into the boot. “Well you can tell him that’s not the case at all. I’m fine.” She gestures around her, the sleeves of the sweater she’s thrown on flopping over her hands. “I may be a prisoner, but I’m not exactly suffering, am I?”

Will winces at the familiar line. Looks like he’s not the only one getting confusing treatment from the big guy. “You can tell him all about it on the way home.”

“Oh no. I’m not going with you.”

Will stares down at her hand around his while she drags him back into the suite’s main rooms. For someone who’s not coming, she sure seems to be.

As if in answer she says, “I’m getting you out of here before Hive comes back and you can tell Ward I’ll thank him not to send any other well-meaning idiots after me.”

He grabs her shoulder, bringing her spinning around. If he thought she’d be less attractive in the dim moonlight, he was wrong. The fire in her eyes warms the chill air between them, setting his nerves on edge. “I may be an idiot,” he admits—there’s a reason he’s been captured _eighteen times_ , “but I knew what I was getting into here. I’m not leaving you with that monster.”

She laughs once, a harsh sound that cracks through the apartment. “Did Ward happen to tell you _why_ I handed myself over to Hive?”

“For Johnson-”

“And for the _world_. He agreed to stop his assault on Europe if I came with him.”

His immediate thought is something along the lines of _oh, sweetheart_ and she sees it too. She wraps her arms around her chest and looks away.

“He hasn’t stopped, has he?”

Will tips his head. “Technically he did—as much as it’s possible at this point. But he’s been using his eastern strongholds to hit the western Americas. Not much of a compromise.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She turns to go and he drags her back.

“Like _hell_ it doesn’t.” He regrets his harsh tone when she flinches but he looses his grip on her arms, runs his hands up and down them to show her he’s not about to hurt her, she’s _safe_ with him.

For all her blustering, she’s damn small now that he’s holding her. Deep down in his heart, he swears he’s not letting that thing near her again, her self-sacrificial streak be damned.

“I was rescued once before,” she says softly, her eyes on the tiles at their feet. “The remains of SHIELD still in the city. They found me, got me out.” She meets his gaze. “He _ate them alive_.”

That is … a whole new level of gross, right up there with the sorts of things he expected to find when he broke in here. He goes numb all over and she easily turns away, facing the windows.

“He says he loves me, that he can’t stand the thought of me being hurt. That’s why he killed those people.” Her hand slides up over her shoulder and he feels the urge to shrug off his jacket and give it to her, but he still can’t move. “How much worse do you think he’ll do if I leave for good?”

Oh, it’ll be bad, but Will never doubted that. You don’t steal a guy’s girl and not expect some blowback. And maybe the scale expected from a guy who thinks he’s a god isn’t worth it, but looking at her, this woman with a spine of steel and more courage than Will can dream of, he thinks it is. Could just be that damn chivalry his dad drilled into him growing up but saving Jemma? He thinks that’s worth everything.

“Ward said you were a medic?” he asks.

The question startles her. For the first time he gets to see the way confusion wrinkles her forehead, how her mouth drops open in a tiny O. “More or less. Why?”

“He was the one who was supposed to come in for you, I’m just the pilot. The plan was I drop him off outside the city and he sneaks in, uses that face of his to get past any guards, and grabs you. Only turns out the Inhumans can tell the difference real easy and he got shot barely a quarter-mile in.”

She doesn’t interrupt, but she closes the space between them, her hand settling on his arm for reassurance.

“He’s alive but he wouldn’t leave without you.” He nods upwards. “Quinjet’s parked on the roof. He’s not gonna make it back to civilization without help.” That might be a lie. Between the two of them, he and Ward have plenty of experience patching up bullet wounds and no way would Will have stuck around if he didn’t think Ward was stable. But then you never know what might go wrong so he doesn’t feel too bad about the half-truth.

“That _idiot_ ,” she breathes. Will’s beginning to think it’s not quite an insult coming from her.

“So, shall we, princess?”

She gives him a long look at the endearment and his proffered arm.

“What? A fair maiden in a tower guarded by a monster? I’ve gotta be getting white knight cred for this rescue.”

She laughs, a light, airy sound that lifts his heart right out of his chest. Her hand on his arm sees it gone entirely and he doesn’t think it’ll be coming back anytime soon.

“This is still a terrible idea. Hive’s wrath-”

“The world’s been suffering Hive’s wrath for decades. That wasn’t gonna change whether you were here or not.” He rests his hand on hers. She looks down sharply but he doesn’t let that scare him off—if he lets her go he’s afraid she might not come. “None of this is on you. Not what happens next and not what happened to those agents who tried to help you before.”

She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at him, but he can feel a slight tremor in her. He smiles down at her head.

“Now come on. Let’s get out of here before Hive comes back or Ward gets antsy and thinks he can storm this place on his own with twelve stitches.”

She laughs again, less happily this time. “He would. We’d better hurry.”

She sticks close to him the whole way out, her hand on his arm or his back or even in his until she’s kneeling on the quinjet floor to give Ward a talking-to. Will feels the warmth of her touch long into the flight, until the rising sun blankets the cockpit in light and heat. Soon they’ll be close enough to check-in with SHIELD HQ and hear just how bad things are looking out there but right now, with Jemma admiring the view beside him and the both of them free, he thinks it’s turning out to be another top five day.

 


End file.
